


rearranging the disaligned

by princegrantaire



Category: Shazam! (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Character Study, Childhood Trauma, Family, Gen, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 07:45:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18545371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrantaire/pseuds/princegrantaire
Summary: Thaddeus isn’t much use to anyone when he’s got nothing but tatters left of a still-bleeding pride. Some might say he’s won. His father and brother lay dead. Forgotten, if he’s lucky. The former applies to the wizard as well. And isn’t that what he’s always dreamed of?(A faint character study of Thaddeus Sivana, with added hints of found family courtesy of one Billy Batson.)





	rearranging the disaligned

**Author's Note:**

> hi i LOVE thad so much and i frankly have never recovered from hearing mark strong personally in person say "you WILL have sympathy for my character" so...i sure do, mr strong! also big fan of happy endings & found family over here
> 
> also yes, thad is gay. those are his vibez. thank u
> 
> (also i realise there's no way of telling WHERE exactly thad is in prison in the credits scene but i say arkham 'cause i love all arkham baybeeee) (and it makes sense with the million batman references and the frankly victorian asylum decor)

Thaddeus steps inside and falters, hands twitching at his side. The yawning emptiness of the penthouse nearly overcomes him. One year and seven months. In his absence, it’s remained identical. The notes pinned to the walls, a stale cup of coffee abandoned on a desk. He hums, surprised that the place hadn’t been ransacked during some investigation or other, and slams the door shut behind him.

Why he’d needed so many windows, he can’t possibly say now. The sunlight’s blinding. After Arkham Asylum, most things are.

By the end of it, he’d stopped scrawling on the walls. _The Eye of Horus, Solomon’s Sceptre--_

None of it bears repeating now. Symbols on top of symbols across symbols. Seven times. Fourteen. Over and over. Thaddeus had stopped-- No, he’d _made_ himself stop before he’d reached a different kind of canvas.

One scar per lifelong obsession is enough.

So, he’d lied at the parole hearing, just like he’d always done when his father would ask, when Sid would go through the notebooks scattered around his room, permanently filled up with bits and pieces of whatever arcane secrets he’d found himself researching then. But there, in the asylum, in front of a carefully-curated committee of doctors, the difference is stark. It _works_.

Here’s Thaddeus, dimly dumbfounded, lacking the bruises induced by childhood denials of what would eventually consume him. _He_ rarely encounters belief.

And that’s where the lines get hazy.

Is it even a lie?

Yes, Thaddeus hadn’t been so far gone as to carve those too-familiar contours elsewhere but he’d _thought_ about it, he’d traced the scar nearly cutting through an eye, had considered the merits of blood and what that might’ve awakened. He’d lied about _that_. Worse, he’d forgone any mention of the… talking worm -- still barely acknowledged in his darkest imaginings. It’s not him. Thaddeus Sivana has spent too long dealing in matters of truth alone to be written off as another one of Arkham’s lunatics.

But, and this is the extent of what occupies his thoughts as he busies himself with the unnecessary intricacies of taking off his coat and hanging it up neatly, the urge has left a noticeable gap. He remembers it and doesn’t feel it.

Thaddeus isn’t much use to anyone when he’s got nothing but tatters left of a still-bleeding pride. Some might say he’s won. His father and brother lay dead. Forgotten, if he’s lucky. The former applies to the wizard as well. And isn’t that what he’s always dreamed of? Solitary nights in Arkham, solitary nights in his childhood bedroom. It’s never left him.

Somehow, an eventual attempt to reopen the portal, find another glimmer of the impossible, doesn’t seem quite so urgent anymore.

He knows his truth.

The guilt that’s turned into resentment and back again seems to have -- as far as Thaddeus is concerned when it’s already been too long since it’s swallowed him whole -- dissipated.

He hadn’t caused the accident. He’d done a lot worse. Well-deserved, too.

And it’s then a knock on the door brings this train of thought to an abrupt halt. Unused to company and all at once too aware that his first hour of freedom has been spent staring out a window on the twenty-second floor, Thaddeus hesitates. There’s nothing to hide. He cracks the door open, peeks out.

“Parole check,” says Billy Batson, grinning, fist caught in mid-air like he’s about to knock again.

“You,” Thad breathes out and doesn’t open the door any further.

Speaking of bruised pride and lack of dignity, here comes a prime candidate for the blame. A simultaneous attempt at all the stages of grief merely serves to cancel itself out and Thaddeus is left standing there, at the mercy of a fifteen year old who could, at the slightest provocation, turn into a superhero.

“Me,” Billy agrees. The smile’s still there, strained now. A conscious attempt to cling to some bravado, then. “Look, uh, Freddy tried to talk me outta this but I heard you just got out and-- there aren’t a lot of supervillains in Philly, you know? Thought you might need some kinda parole officer.”

“I _have_ a parole officer,” Thaddeus points out.

“Uh-huh.” But Billy’s not looking at him, seemingly engaged in some staring contest with the penthouse stretching behind the door. “Listen, Mr. Sivana--”

“Doctor,” Thaddeus corrects, instinctively.

“Can I call you Thad?”

Bad associations and crossed wires. Thaddeus opts for a curt _no_.

“Oookay, Mr. Thaddeus,” Billy allows, potentially on the verge of rolling his eyes, and pushes past Thaddeus without a care in the world. “Whoa.” The apartment dwarfs him. “You live here all alone?”

No alternatives had ever been considered. Thaddeus remembers Sid bringing it up once or twice, when he’d still been young enough to consider family affairs something of an obligation and a sort of understanding of his father’s insistence on keeping up appearances had been feigned.

He can’t tell why he’s giving Billy the time of day.

“Yes.”

There’d always been a certain comfort to having no one to come home to. More often than not, isolation had meant safety, no prying eyes, no mockery of the few lifelines he’d found. Romantic entanglements had, too, been mostly avoided. The kind of man willing to wait-- to _believe_ \-- Well, Thaddeus hadn’t ever found him. The penthouse suits him just fine.

He watches Billy’s impromptu tour, sighs. Better not to tempt fate, he’s sure, but defeat still stings, a measure too close to the bone.

“Why are you here?” Thaddeus finally asks, tired, as he pushes up his glasses.

“Told ya, I’m your new parole officer.” Billy might’ve stumbled onto the distinct knowledge that he’s running out of time, the faint impression of a deer caught in headlights passing through him. He’s still a child, Thaddeus notes, and there’s relief in that. “Look, I know how it feels to be alone, okay? So, I was thinking you could have dinner with us, if you want, Victor and Rosa are totally cool with it.” Billy stifles a laugh. “Since we’re all superheroes and you’re, y’know, some old guy. No offence.”

“What.”

It’s the same Billy Batson he’d nearly drowned. That’s what sticks out to Thaddeus now. The child struggling under frigid water and not the hero that’d followed. And he’s inviting him to dinner, with his family. The word won’t ever carry anything other than a bitter aftertaste.

Billy scratches at his arm, not quite awkward. “You don’t _have_ to come,” he adds. “But yeah. I’m guessing you still know the address?”

A beat.

Thaddeus still hasn’t found any words at all.

“Okay, well, I’ll maybe see you later, Mr. Thaddeus!” Billy says, perplexingly amused, as he lets himself out.

It’s all quiet again and Thaddeus lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. For a moment too long, reality doesn’t dawn on him. There’s no one to see the faintest trace of a disbelieving smile.

Dinner with the-- _a_ family.

That’s new.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ufonaut!


End file.
